Brooding Aramis
by Inamioly
Summary: "Aramis was brooding. As surely as Porthos' aim improved with the unrestrained ingestion of alcoholic beverages, Aramis was brooding. Sulking. Pining. Pining? Athos huffed at the pathetic sight of his mopey comrade." How Aramis reacted to Anne's pregnancy news, and how his brothers tried to literally sword it out of him.
**A/N: Set after the Queen announced her pregnancy, and before the Dauphin was born. Will have one more chapter for sure, and perhaps even more. I hope you like it, and do tell me what you think. Thank you!**

Aramis was brooding. As surely as Porthos' aim improved with the unrestrained ingestion of alcoholic beverages, Aramis was brooding. Sulking. Pining. Pining? Athos huffed at the pathetic sight of his mopy comrade. At least all that pouting provided the perfect opportunity for him to enrichen his vocabulary. Hmm… would you say Aramis was miserable, or downright doleful?

"Hey, 'Mis, d'you wanna sword it out?"

Oh, great. Blasting perfect. Now he had Porthos worried. And Porthos similarities with a dutiful pup graced him with unmatched patience and a never-ending stock of cheering-up strategies. Athos huffed… again. This would be fun… not. As Aramis murmured nonchalantly in response, Porthos and D'Artagnan eyed each other warily.

"But we certainly have the time. You know how ladies work… we'll probably die of old age before they finish chatting away all of Paris' most recent gossip and require our presence to escort them back to the palace." D'Artagnan winked and nudged Athos for support.

"Hmm hmm, what they said." The oldest musketeer flinched – manly, of course – under Porthos' not at all discreet glare. "What? Oh, for crying out loud, Aramis, just amuse them. They look as eager to lose to you as I am to return to the garrison."

"Well… perhaps some rightful winning would brighten my day."

Porthos cleared his throat, looking slightly outraged. "I offered to be your sparring partner, not to lose _on purpose_ , mon frére."

"But… but…" Aramis pouted. "I was feeling better already."

"You could be waltzing with that tree for all I care. I refuse to let you win as that, my friends, would be cheating. And as you very well know…" His affronted look was quickly changing into a sheepish grin. "I'm above any and all kinds of cheating."

"So we have reached the joking phase, I see." Athos chuckled, chancing a quick glance at the group of women near the pond. "Gentlemen, the way I see it, you have two options. Either you talk it out, like three ladies-in-waiting after a royal ball…" He hoped the disapproving squinting of his eyes would be enough to deter any remaining longing to get things off their chest. "Or you resolve things like men do. Like brave, honourable, responsible soldiers do." Leaning back into the wall, he grinned at the expectant threesome. "You fight it out. Swords, no swords, I do not care. Just provide me with some much needed entertainment. It's too beautiful a day to sit around counting butterflies… or moping." He made a point to stare intently at Aramis, so his meaningful words wouldn't be lost to subtlety.

D'Artagnan patted Porthos' shoulder. "That was a most inspired speech, Athos. We shall not disappoint, right?"

"Damn right. Who knows when he'll ever throw a big sentence like that at us 'gain… we might as well reward'im."

Athos rolled his eyes and leant against the wall – the nicest of the spots in that godforsaken garden. Seriously, _when_ had birds started chirping so… loudly? And what had happened to the sun? Surely it didn't use to have so blinding a glow… and it certainly didn't use to take _that_ _long_ for minutes to pass. It seemed as if they had been guarding the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting forever while in reality not even an hour had passed.

"Yeah, yeah, just do it."

D'Artagnan needn't be told twice. Before Aramis even had a chance to reach for his sword, the youngest musketeer already had him tripping over a root.

"Hey! I wasn't ready!" Aramis complained. "And you said you were going to let me win."

D'Artagnan helped him up and grinned. "Blasphemy. That must've been Porthos."

The two soldiers began sparring once more, and this time Aramis managed to keep up. Keep up. Athos scoffed. Aramis never just _kept up_. If he weren't pining like a lovesick teenager, D'Artagnan would have been on the floor before even raising the sword.

"Oy, Aramis. After you lose to the pup, do you want me to teach you how to use that sword of yours?"

"I'm impervious to your frail attempt at wounding me, brother." Aramis smirked and had to focus not to trip again. D'Artagnan laughed. "I hope you're enjoying this. Kicking a man when he's down…"

"But why _are_ you down, Aramis?"

"Oh, this I want to hear." Porthos, who had been fidgeting where he stood, impatient and eager to join the fight, all but jumped into the 'arena'.

"What, two against one? Classy. Athos, you can't possibly allow this."

"I'll allow it." Athos declared in mock seriousness. "Proceed."

And so Aramis found himself on the receiving end of very efficient attacks, and it got harder and harder to avoid them. His mind was not in it, and neither was his heart, which meant his inefficient strokes were being fuelled merely by… testosterone? Really, Aramis? Athos tutted in disappointment. If only at least he had reason on his side. But no – reason was as far from him as the moon to the sun. Or perhaps even a bit more, as even the moon got to meet the sun once a day.

Aaaand he was down. As the oldest musketeer refocused on the swording in front of him, D'Artagnan and Porthos shared a look and cornered their brooding friend. Who fell down. On his bottom.

"Nice landing."

"Real classy."

The winning pair high-fived each other and Aramis rested his back on the grass, eyeing the sky. Cloudy, yet a nice percentage of blue. He sighed.

"'Mis? D'you want to talk about it now?"

"Is it about a lady?"

Aramis chuckled. "A lady… Guys…"

"So it is." D'Artagnan nodded in understanding. "Did it end badly? Did her husband find out? Oh… does she want a more serious commitment?"

"Nothing of the sorts, lad. I'm bettin' on a streak of bad luck. Have you been striking out more often than not, 'Mis?" Porthos asked in a sort of I'm-so-sorry-and-I-totally-get-your-grief way. "Worry not, if we all chip in, I'm sure we can get you-"

"Porthos, please." Aramis rolled his eyes, and Athos couldn't help but being glad. The nervous sweat on the back of his neck was a clear warning of the conversation approaching dangerous topics.

"C'mon, Aramis. We can even fetch one totally to your liking. Tell me, what do you look for in a woman?"

"I'm not doing this, boys."

Porthos scratched his beard, deep in thought. "She must be pretty, obviously."

"Of course." D'Artagnan concurred. "And shorter than him. There's something spooky about taller women."

"Agreed. And she must smell nice. Did this girl of yours smell nice, 'Mis?"

Did she… Athos could see it in Aramis' face. The longing. The memories. Even if his comrade's eyes stared at the sky, Athos knew that, should he look into them, he would see the same haunted look he saw every time he looked in the mirror.

"She must have… Aramis doesn't settle. He always aims high – higher than he should. Somehow he always manages to wink at the bird with the deadliest husband in the entire city."

This time both Aramis and Athos laughed. Loudly and keenly.

"Understatement." Athos snorted.

"Of the year." Aramis chuckled. "Hey, Athos, d'you think I'll ever go as far as to have the entire regiment on my tail?"

Athos squinted his eyes at the clear taunt. "Don't even joke about it."

"Oh, I can totally see it happening." D'Artagnan grinned. "One day, he'll bat his eyelashes so efficiently he'll hit one of the Queen's ladies with his supposedly unparalleled charm. Or even the Queen herself."

"God forbid." Porthos shuddered. "Keep it in your pants inside the palace, at the very least."

"Such crass wording, brother." Aramis smirked. "And I resent the accusation regarding my infallible way with woman, D'Artagnan. I'll have you know I can charm my way into any woman's heart."

"And yet here we are." The youngest of the four cheekily replied.

"Smart. Ha ha. But you didn't let me finish. I can, in fact, get any woman I want. It's just the way I'm wired." He shrugged in mock nonchalance. "I just choose not to."

Porthos gaped at him. "You can't mean…"

"Yes."

"No." Porthos shook his head. "Nuh huh."

"Yeah huh."

"But that means…"

"Yup. I retired. No more sleeping around. In fact, no more _women_ for me."

A soft chuckle startled them all. Even Athos, who had been paying too much attention at the playful banter to notice the Queen's arrival. "I can certainly see where you are coming from, monsieur Aramis." Porthos and D'Artagnan coughed loudly and mumbled several _your majesty,_ while Aramis quickly sat down. "Women have been the downfall of many good men. However, I would rather not see one of my most extraordinary musketeers so disheartened by life that he gives up altogether. Love is both the most damaging and the most rewarding thing. Wouldn't you agree, monsieurs?"

 **A/N: Next chapter regards their interaction with the Queen. Kisses***


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